A state-of-the-art Boeing 777 lands at JFK after a flight from Berlin and is on its way to the gate—when it suddenly goes dark. Just stops dead. The control tower loses contact with the pilot and all electrical activity shuts down. No cell phone or BlackBerry or radio communication. Nada. Window shades are drawn and no one is visible inside. An emergency crew gathers, everyone watching the silent plane now bathed in floodlights, a giant white tombstone looming against the night sky. Then a sliver of black quietly appears on the fuselage. It’s a door opening with glacial slowness from within. Dr. Eph Goodweather, head of the CDC’s New York team, enters and finds a cabin looking like a winged graveyard where everyone appears to be comatose or dead. As he begins to remove bodies for transport to the morgue, four victims are discovered miraculously alive—and relatively unscathed apart from complaints of disorientation and a strange soreness. Also on board is a container that hasn